SONNETS 


AND 


NUGGETS 


BY 

RICH,  GALD 


GIFT  OF 


THE   AUTHOR. 


SONNETS  ANDNUGGETS 


BY 


RICH.    GALD 

S 


SAN    FRANCISCO: 

JOHN  R.  MCNICOLL  PRINTING  co..  215  LEIDESDORFF  STREEI 

IBIS 


r 


COPYRIGHT   1915 
BY   G.    A.   ALDRICH 


FOREWORD 


We  launch  our  newest  grouping  of  verse  upon  a 
merciful  public  not  without  misgivings  lest  we  should 
again  fail  to  impress  the  particularly  discriminating 
angel  of  censorship  with  the  purity  of  an  invaluable 
merit. 

Abandoned  on  a  sea  of  preference,  let  us  cry  our  own 
wares !  Just  a  little,  please ! 

Why  cannot,  ever,  an  obtuse  and  cruelly  insoluble 
world  stand  upon  its  just  claim  to  award?  Is  every- 
thing desirable  on  earth  to  suffer  abusive  repudiation; 
because  it  may  not  always  seem  pertinent  with  the 
ambition  of  jealous  minutiae  surrounding  one? 

THE   AUTHOR. 


301434 


SONNETS 


I. 


How  transient  is  that  miracle  called  peace  ? 

How— swift— it  flits  full-fleetly  bye  ?  Old  Time 

May  scarce,  will  scarce  it  dare.  Nor  rhythm,  rhyme 

Can  paint  its  wonders,  quite,  of  sure  release 

From  wondrous  enmity  in  strife's  increase: 

From  mawkish  dignity,  all  joke  sublime: 

From  odd  things  else,  concentric  with  great  crime : 

From  freak-minutiae;  with  ne'er  surcease. 

Oh,  pump  your  pompoms  ponderously  forth 

Fierce  Jove :  but  they  in  vain ;  resulting  not 

In  profit  evermore,  transcendent,  pure. 

But  strive  in  fact;  and  strive  for  all  you're  worth: 

And  heat  your  strife  'till  luminously  hot. 

Your  pumping,  and  your  striving  may,  you,  cure. 


II. 


THE   ADVANCING   SEASON 

An  eschatological  thrill  awakes 

Our  dormant  pious  selves  apochryphal. 

With  supernatural  assistance,  all 

Our  inward  knowledge  of  the  soul  oe'rtakes 

Us  sleeping  soundly,  slumbering;  and  shakes, 

As  might  eternity  at  Adam's  fall, 

Our  dulled  conscience,  pervert  to  each  call, 

Which  would  not  yield  to  cosmic  force ;  to  'quakes. 

The  psychic  powers  of  transcendent  self 

Conspiring,  are  enticing  to  a  cusp 

Of  life,  in  indolence  resolved  to  naught : 

Where  must  as  at  one's  Zion,  saucy  elf, 

One 's  cupid  captive  render,  with  a  wisp 

Of  fragrant  straw,  if  love  be  pastoral-taught 


III. 


The  Muse  now  calls  forth  memories  divine ; 

That,  wrapt  in  soulful  pasts,  hath  graced  our  song; 

And  languished  in  a  listless  time-worn  throng 

Of  figures  mythical;  high  Heaven's  sign 

Of  poesy  transcendent,  winged  of  line. 

The  Muse  now  murmurs,  soft,  her  ditties  strong; 

That,  vibrant,  pulsate  where  they  best  belong; 

Their  melody  Thalia-born  with  wine. 

Then  pump  thy  folk-lore  paeans  proudly  forth, 

Oh  organ!    Our  symphonic  pulse,  our  beat 

Affimtive  with  heart-song,  bids  thee  joy. 

Then  peal  thy  folk-songs  out  for  all  they're  worth: 

And  trip  thy  trills,  in  truest  tuneful  treat, 

Inspiring  every  girl;  and,  too,  each  boy. 


IV. 


CASTLE  CRAG 

Thou  castellated  mount  of  lawless  mould: 

Obtrusive,  shapeless  crag  of  dolomite : 

Thy  jagged  peaks,  sky-piercing  to  great  height, 

Enbosom  tales  of  storm- winds,  yet  untold : 

Of  light 'ning-flash,  and  thunder-peal,  loud-rolled. 

Thou  cosmic  error,  thus  uptossed  on  sight, 

A  plaything  of  cold  snows ;  and  of  the  light : 

Thou  sentry !  Guard  the  pass,  thou  guardian  bold ! 

If  but  thou  could 'st  remould  thine  heart  of  stone; 

And  make  it  flesh  and  blood,  full-warmed  with  love ; 

A  throbbing  human-thing  of  doubts  and  fears ; 

Would 'st  covet,  then,  thy  tempests  icy-blown; 

Nor  sacrifice  the  eaglet  for  the  dove ! 

Be  human-friend,  profuse  of  sky-born  tears ! 


10 


V. 


We  chant  of  obsolesence,  rife  of  Earth : 
And,  too,  of  obscuration,  wondrous  thing, 
That,  coupled  with  autumnal  years  will  bring 
Oblivion  transcendent  of  all  birth 
In  Nature  mothered,  well,  of  honest  worth. 
Of  these  most  strange  phenomena  we  sing : 
Oh,  with  our  harmony  sweet  concord  ring ; 
That  should  entwine  us  with  fantastic  girth. 
Grim  obsolescence,  griffin  of  the  night : 
Foul  curtain  dense,  all  dank  and  dismal  damn : 
Thou  noisome  controvert,  untoward  conceit : 
Impossible  creation  lost  to  sight ; 
Thy  cousin  obscuration  we  contemn 
As  insult  heaped  on  insult,  foully  meet ! 


VI. 


Now  chant  bereavement's  paeans  filled  with  dole: 

In  welling  tones  peal  forth  the  dull,  sad  hour 

Oh  Time !  The  burdened  sky  doth  threaten,  lower ; 

And  master  tearfully  responding  soul. 

Nay,  call  ye  not  Thine  horrid  stygian  roll, 

To  devastate  Earth's  most  attractive  bower, 

Eternally  of  misery  a  shower ; 

Thus  constitute  of  hopelessness  our  goal. 

But  wrap  us  up  in  choicest  mental  robes  ; 

Forgetting,  lest  forgotten  we  should  be : 

And  dry  our  tears  with  soft,  responding  sobs, 

To  work  just  easement  for  our  trouble-plea : 

Else,  sacrificed  we  are  to  woe,  which  robs 

Transcending  worlds  of  potent  ideals  free. 


*  Composed,  upon  the  decease  of  a  sister,  November  3rd,  1913. 


12 


VII. 

How  signifieth  spots  upon  thee,  Sun? 

Why  doth  thy  purity  pollute  thus,  be : 

Hot  master  of  our  sky ;  our  earth ;  our  sea  ? 

Consuming  firmament,  thou  burning  one 

Personified  Helios;  helion 

A  baser  substance  than  mere  light  sets  free : 

Nor  yet  parhelia,  parsilenae.     . 

Thou  spewest  speculation ;  new  thought,  Sun ! 

How  signifieth,  then,  thy  troubled  mien: 

Th  y  freckled  front  of  f roward  demon-frown  ? 

Thy  countenance  should  be  e'er  clean  and  chaste; 

Demeanor  purest,  of  sky-blue  serene : 

N"or  with  prognostication  scarred;  and  thrown 

Abroad  on  our  conception  of  good  taste. 


13 


VIII. 

The  curve  of  life  a  livid  line  of  love : 

Or  love  compounded  soft  of  yieldy  ooze ; 

E  'er  fashioning  itself  as  men  might  choose  ? 

Or  war :  which  booming  cannons  thundrous  strove. 

Regardless  of  the  biblical  peace-dove, 

From  time  forgotten  dignified  of  muse, 

To  stamp  upon  our  Earth  a  peace-born  ruse : 

Or  vacuous  transcendent  hope  above  ? 

7Tis  strange  we  cannot  count  without  some  link : 

Some  bridge;  some  brutish  jointure  with  the  past; 

That  killeth  peace,  and  every  gentle  hope : 

Our  every  safe-guard  at  the  awful  brink, 

Where  life  is  unto  the  eternal  cast 

From  off  this  Earth;  with  other  World's  to  cope. 


NUGGETS 


EARLIER    -    FAULTY    -    EFFORTS 


I. 


Superior  ideals,  pure  thoughts  of  love, 
Are  best  deep-draughted  in  poet's  sonnet. 
Thrills  of  true  heart,  now  hot  Cupid's  won  it, 
With  sentimental  journeys  up  above, 
All  soft-robed  in  white  down  of  Peace's  dove 
Weft  in  technique,  with  poesy  the  woof, 
Should  constitute  the  poet's  realm — his  roof — 
His  mansion  in  the  skies:  whence  he  may  rove 
Forth,  into  worlds  of  matter,  grave,  of  fact: 
Where  most  of  romance  reeketh  in  foulled  sweet; 
And  sure  release  is  governed  by  one's  tact: 
Where  Heaven  sitteth  limned  in  bread  and  meat. 
Yet,  what  more  true,  convincing;  than  the  fact 
That  opulence,  sound  wealth,  is  Heaven's  seat. 


19 


II. 


We  lisp  in  numbers  our  sweet  songs  of  love : 

We  find  in  rhyme  record  of  our  fond  dreams: 

We  yearn  to  soar,  above  these  noisy  streams, 

To  seek  something  better:  for  this  we  rove. 

We  wing  on  nothingness  through  thought  above 

We  cleave  impenetrable  mists  of  soul; 

Ever  attaining  impossible  goal; 

For  which  we've  generations — eons — strove. 

We  wander  into  realms  of  poesy, 

Where  meandering  streams  of  idea  flow: 

Evading  all  horrific,  plain,  prosy; 

Just  where  fine  fancy  may  elect  to  go. 

Yet,  yet  oh  Muse,  come  tell  of  wealth  cozy : 

Fountain  of  youth,  it  but  will  make  us  grow. 


III. 


They  told  me  thou  wert  beautiful,  sweet,  mine: 

That  all  the  soul  of  Nature  dwelt  in  thee : 

That  thou  wert  lithesome,  young,  and  fair  and  free : 

That  something  infinite  gleamed  from  thine  eyne : 

That  transcendental  grace  enveloped  thine 

In  roseate  mists  of  fancy's  fair  thought, 

(Far,  far  above  ethereal  worlds  sought) 

Where  acts  of  purity  unite,  combine. 

All  exquisite  conception  there  excelled! 

All  human  fancy  mastered,  there,  by  love ! 

Where  all  that's  commonplace,  Appollo's  felled 

With  mastering,  conquering  sword,  above ! 

Yet  opulence's  there,  in  beauty  held: 

Great  Providence's  wonder,  mercy,  love. 


21 


IV. 


Sweet  musical  notes,  wafted  hitherward, 
Exploit  now  all  heart's  deeper  sentiment: 
Affording  new  sensations  quite  our  bent. 
So  bound  we  over  waves  breezy,  seaward  ; 
Away  from  all  dull  city  ways  froward. 
Oh,  Muse,  now  grant  us  surcease  of  labour ; 
Release  from  importuning  dull  neighbor. 
Our  happiness,  our  love,  too,  now  increase ; 
(Specious  rest  to  commune  with  Heaven) 
Thus  find  a  place  for  wearied  soul  above. 
We  yearn  now  for  this  desired  leaven. 
It  is  a  pact  for  which  we've  ever  sought ; 
But  can't  forget  that  for  which  we've  striven, 
Let  opulence,  then,  be  just  what  it  ought. 


22 


V. 


We'll  not  despair  of  song,  oh  sweet  soul  mine. 
We'll  not  languish  in  void  for  thought  rhythmic, 
We've  not  but  one  couplet:  we're  plethoric. 
Pull  store,  full  store  of  rhyme  is  ours;  and  thine. 
Come  Muse,  about  worthy  brow  now  entwine 
Us  laurel  long  deserved ;  yet  long  forgot. 
Sepulchre  us  in  some  much  hallowed  spot : 
Where  violets  true  blow;  mayhap  pea-vine. 
Soften  our  quiet  recalcitrant  crude  selves 
With  fragrance  waft  from  fields  elysian. 
Guide  us  to  realms  in  which  idea  most  delves. 
Enwrap  us,  too,  in  mists  Arcadian. 
Yet  gather  for  us,  busy  little  elves, 
Opulence  mightier  than  sword  or  pen. 


VI. 


Discovering  in  realms  of  sunny  space : 
Journeying  too,  through  incandescent  night; 
(Couplets  the  sole  comrades  of  fancy-flight) 
Through  nebulous  new  worlds,  we  creep  a-pace. 
Hope,  hope,  thou  poet  of  a  prosaic  race. 
Personified  in  justice  to  base  earth ! 

(World   most    flat,    wert    not    for    thine    august 
birth!) 

Guide  us  to  Mercy's  goal  in  this  sweet  race. 
Yet  beauty  cannot  blush  without  the  pulse 

That  burning  gold  makes,  coursing  through  its 
veins. 

Beauty  cannot  fair-feast  upon  food  else : 
And  it  will  truly  hold  the  guiding  reins. 
Providence !  How  virtuous  wealth  still  tells ! 
A  panacea  for  o'er-tired  brains! 


24 


VII. 

Reverberating  sounds  now  burst  on  ear : 
Industry  transported  through  harmony. 
The  world  has  joined  in  concert — symphony. 
We  move,  we  move  in  some  vacuous  sphere. 
Discovery !   The  poesy  of  fear ! 
Onward,  on  airy  flight,  we  aviate 

Through  realms  where  no  one,  nowhere  hath  e'er 
sate. 

We  stoy;  and  then  drink  Death  as  cup  to  cheer: 
But  righting,  pass  the  fatal  pall-clad  tomb ; 
And  kiss  the  sun:  and  call  it  love,  sweet  love. 

(True  love!    Just  such  as  comes  from  Nature's 
womb!) 

Then  gather  opulence :  that  it  may  prove 

Our  bridge  of  life,  our  main-stay  our  a-plomb; 

Perhaps  our  ship  to  bear  us  up  above. 


25 
„_  ^*&(?=^&?=sb&g:^^^ 


VIII. 

Cureall  virtue,  in  a  correct  couplet, 

Exceeds  the  prayer  of  professional-man. 

Lisp  in  poesy  sweet,  then,  if  you  can. 

Call  on  the  Muse  to  tonic  breast  upset. 

Then  let  the  heart  take  a  firm  rhythmic  set. 

Oh  gray,  cold  sea,  thou'st  worried  wearied  pen : 

Thou'st  robbed  it  of  fair  sentiment:  and  then 

Thou'st  tossed  idea,  upon  wandering  wet, 

To  let  it  languish  in  unfathomed  void, 

Atomized  spray  dashed  on  unwelcome  shore. 

Pulsating  there,  it  cries  itself  annoyed ; 

To  return  unto  its  self  nevermore. 

Ah,  had  we  but  remained  on  land ;  and  toyed 

With  all-prevailing  wealth;  though  meagre  store. 


IX. 


We  yearn  for  vistas  of  those  fern-clad  realms; 
Where  youth  joyful,  lusty,  was  wont  to  dwell: 
Where  blossomed  grasses,  tall,  the  meadows  swell ; 
And  perfumed  flowers  wild,  our  brain  o'erwhelms. 
For  bye-gone  ships  of  hope,  faith-guided  helms, 
That  steer  into  lands  of  glorious  gain, 
Through  many  a  leafy  mystic  crook 'd  lane. 

Such  shades  our  fathers  loved  o'ertopped  with 
elms. 

But  gold,  gold,  burning,  all-conquering  gold! 
Thou'rt  veritably  commander  of  heart! 
Our  thoughts  of  odorous  dells  may  grow  old. 
No  longer  may  have  flowers  wholesome  part. 
We  yearn  for  wealth  in  quantities  untold. 
Ultima  Thule!   This  is  fact;  not  art. 


27 


X. 


Disappointment  in  life's  near-sanctified. 
(Indeed,  and  veritably  it  must  be.) 
We're  lost,  at  times,  in  gray  melancholy. 
Then,  gone  is  all  for  which  we've  life:long  tried. 
All  hope,  like  love  (vain  love)  has  flown ;  has  died. 
And  yet  the  sunny  advent  of  next  morn 
Hath  generate  new  fortune ;  new  wealth  born. 
Ah,  Providence!   Thy  virtues  long  we've  cried! 
Great  good  abundance,  hast  thou  an  equal  ? 
King  opulence,  hast  ever  been  deposed? 

Once    more    the    warming    hearth;    and    hearts 
cheerful ! 

Dormant  celestial  joy  long  hath  dozed. 
Avaunt  horrid  fancies  morbid,  fearful : 
Corpus  of  poverty  thus  diagnosed. 


28 


XL 


The  mellow  morn  doth  miss  the  songful  bird. 
Here  on  a  boundless  wilderness  of  sea. 

i 

No  cricket  chirps;  no  restive  honey-bee; 

No  dragon-fly,  nor  squirrel  overheard. 

No  crow  of  cock,  nor  low  of  grazing  herd. 

Nor  yet  sweet  flowers  grace  environment. 

Forever  lost  now  to  all  prosaic  cant. 

We  are  at  sea!  Lost,  lost!  Yea,  lost  the  word! 

The  past  material  is  naught  but  mist : 

A  blotch  upon  a  soiled  memory. 

Sweet  hope  of  future  we  have,  hungry,  kist. 

Let  bosom  heave  response,  then,  cheerily. 

Oh  gold!    Oh  wealth!    Thou'rt  sacred!    Thou  art 
blest! 

Panacea !    Earth  moving  wearily. 


29 


XII. 

'Mid  brine-soaked  archipelegos  of  thought, 

Our  craft  of  fancy  bears  us,  buoyantly 

Through  translucent  seas,  mounted  gallantly: 

On,  on  to  the  goal  long  we've  bravely  sought. 

And  yet,  and  yet  how  dearly  these  dreams  bought ; 

More  beautiful,  perhaps,  because  they're  dear; 

More  coveted  eccentric  to  career. 

Oh  just  to  gather  what  we  really  ought ! 

Oh  just  to  harvest  what  we've  fancied  best! 

Then  wrap  ourselves  in  morphic  ever-sleep ! 

Thus  gain  desirous  e'er-coveted  rest; 

Away  from  prosaic  worlds  of  weep-and-weep, 

To  which  poetic-soul  hath  long  attest. 

Yet  opulence  should  limn  our  slumbers  deep. 


30 


XIII. 

The  dull  warm  day  hath  scorned  the  mastering 
sun: 

The  sea  hath  turned  face  from  beauteous  sky : 

With  shadow  darkened,  turned  its  face  awry ; 

As  though  its  duty  to  fair  art  were  done. 

Effects,  theatrical,  have  now  quite  gone ; 

And  sombre  melancholy  rules  the  scene. 

But  this  sad  daughter  of  our  joy  we  wean; 

And  look  for  smiles  of  warmth;  or  coming  morn. 

Yet  what  is  happiness  without  great  weal ! 

Here  in  this  world  prosaic ;  this  world  severe ! 

Here  vanishes  all  vanity,  we  feel. 

To  covet  sense  we  banish  all  that's  queer. 

The  thought  of  gold  makes  man's  future  real; 

Then  toward  this  consummation  let  us  steer. 


XIV. 

We  half  discover  self  in  sentiment ; 
Developing  new  realms  of  real  love, 
From  which  we  soar  to  larger  worlds  above ; 
Eternally  lift,  out  of  false  content, 
Through  deep  regard  for  fine  poetic  bent. 
(True  sense  of  our  universal  beauty; 
Proper  regard  for  each  human  duty.) 
Yet  do  not  relinquish  all  He  hath  sent. 
Art,  art,  thou  cans't  not  obliterate  self; 
Obscuring,  thus,  a  sound  poetic  pulse ! 
Art,  art,  thou  e'erprovoking  wicked  elf; 
Ever  master  of  all  things  keenly  false! 
Stay!  what  beautifuller  victor,  o'er  gulf, 
Than  purse  of  gold !    Obviously  what  else ! 


32 


XV. 

Oh,  faithless  soul !    Why  not  accept  merit  ? 

Why  quail  and  tremble  at  the  unjust  sneer? 

Must  World  yield  up  its  all  to  powers  queer; 

Because  precedents  can  scarcely  bear  it? 

Must  we  lose  the  crown  while  others  wear  it ; 

And  sacrifice  fair  truth  to  vulgar  wit! 

Ah,  truth!    To  make  common-place  thing  of  it! 

Providence !    Art  thou  so  low  to  fear  it ! 

We  strive  for  gain!    Is't  not  obvious,  plain! 

Our  vanity  does,  illy,  obscure  it. 

Our  lives  are  sanctified,  nor  doth  bold  stain 

By  science  ministered  abjure  it. 

We  strive  for  gold !    Then  let  us  have  our  gain ! 

Restored  of  faith!    The  future  shall  show  it. 


XVI. 

We  have  attained  the  nmltipeopled  shore ; 

And  softly  bundled  all  our  love  and  hopes. 

We've  left  our  corded  fancy,  fay-like  ropes, 

With  other  tackle  of  soul-ship  of  yore ; 

And  stept  into  another  realm.    A  store 

Of  imag'ry  awaits  tired  fancy. 

We'll  win,  though  it  be  by  necromancy. 

Oh  beauteous  peace;  anthithesis,  war! 

We'll  win  through  peace  poetic,  through  wisdom. 

We'll  win  through  fancy's  pen;  couplet  plenty. 

In  rhythm  sympathetic  let  bliss  come. 

We  once  dreamt  golden  course;  then,  swift  bent 
we. 

We've  mounted  swells  of  mind;  and  soul-storm 
some. 

Graciousnes  of  love  and  patience  rent  we ! 


XVII. 

The  fruitful  weather  challenges  to  write : 

My  muse,  methinks,  assumes  poetic  pen : 

Fair  simile  abounds:  fine  fancy,  then. 

It  promises  to  be  an  ideal  night : 

The  garrish  world  is,  long  since,  lost  to  sight; 

All  fragrant  herbage  hath  closed  leafy  eye : 

All  fauna  has  retired,  too.    The  sky, 

The  universe,  seems  closed  up  sheer  from  fright; 

And  quite  retired  in  the  faded  past. 

We  durst  not  call  upon  eternal  All : 

Yet  fain  would  judge  the  night  severely  just. 

Oh  soul,  what  else  must  to  old  Earth  bef al ; 

Before  our  youthful  bones  undamaged  rust: 

Before  we're  lost  in  earnest  to  our  call^ 


35 


XVIII. 

We'll  not  surrender,  oh  perplexed  we, 

Obscuring  all  the  beauty  of  our  sky; 

Capitulating  without  reason  why; 

Hypothecating  all  that  should  not  be, 

To  chasten  well  a  best  of  fancy  free. 

Transcending  self,  we'll  but  expostulate 

With  thee.    With  patience  then,  we  can  but  wait. 

Thou,  Muse,  art  everything  for  rhyme  to  me. 

Then  hail,  once  more,  a  lithesome  flippant  joy; 

And  sing  of  happiness  in  great  success ! 

Ah  Cupid,  incomprehensible  boy, 

Our  future  worth  we're  fated  yet  to  guess. 

Bring  thou  abundance,  and  without  alloy, 

Of  gold :  and  it  in  splendour,  bright,  of  dress. 


36 


XIX. 

Oh  noisy  nodule,  in  the  curve  of  time, 
That  characterizes  an  era  new: 
Oh  rough  and  raucus  rump,  why  terror  strew? 
Devoid  of  churching,  sanctimony,  chime 
Or  melody ;  or  true  poetic  rhyme : 
Evaporate ;  and  give  fair  place  to  love, 
(Most  pertinent  with  present  Peace's  dove.) 
To  make  more  room  for  better  things  sublime. 

But  gold ;  but  gold :  a  truest  warmth ;  a  flesh 

Inanimate ;  approach  to  the  divine ! 

Sweet  opulence,  entangle  in  thy  mesh 

(Thou  welcome  net;  modernity's  best  sign!) 

A  sighing  soul ;  a  hopeful  self ;  and  flush 

"With  prospect.    We  have  naught  to  do ;  but  pine. 


37 


XX. 

Come  Muse  of  Mountain-top;   come  wind-tossed 
sprite, 

Collaborating  wonders,  all,  of  Earth. 

Come,  tell  about  a  newest  art's  new  birth: 

With  purest  touch  rejuvenate  our  sight. 

Be  thou  the  poet-soul;  be  thou  poetic  light. 

Then,  rugged  peaks,  thy  potent  voices  speak  ; 

And  thunder  response,  to  petition  weak, 

To  create  new  enlightenment  from  night. 

But  gold,  but  gold!    A  truth!    A  constant,  true! 

A  finest  friend  in  plenty  as  in  want : 

Be-shower  us  with  frequency.    Ah,  do ! 

To  vanquish  all  of  scoff ;  and,  too,  of  taunt. 

Come  opulence'  unconquered  sovereignty; 

And  lead  us  to  abundance',  certain  haunt. 


XXI. 

Love  listless,  of  a  fair-born  Lidyan  muse, 
Appropriate  to  passion  great  for  wealth. 
A  store  of  blessing,  of  plenty,  of  health  ; 
An  antidote  for  weaker  sorts  of  ruse. 
With  sombre  life,  certain,  of  the  recluse, 
We  deem  better  than  worlds  dark,  Libyan : 
Enlightened  more  than  silent  minds  Lyddan 
Of  Palestine,  where  Man  had  know  abuse. 
Then  sing  sonorously  thy  song,  Success; 
And  let  it  swell  above  the  welkin — ring. 
Instruct  the  sober  World  in  truest  dress ; 
And  teach  it  of  the  rightest  things  to  sing : 
Of  gold ;  warm  gold,  like  each  Minervan  tress 
Of  hair,  the  blue-eyed  goddess  once  did  bring. 


39 


XXII. 

Ah,  victim  of  well-bred  discourteous-ness : 
Ah,  suffering  soul  a-sighing  for  a  friend; 
A  relict  of  faint  hope,  with  early  end, 
Symbolic  of  conjecture  and  of  guess, 
Thy  disappointment  may  not  mean  distress. 
Thy  life,  new-born,  may  soon  seize  on  new  love : 
And,  if  for  dazzling  wealth  thou  well  hast  strove ; 
And  cherish,  too,  the  garrish  world  you  bless ;      , 
Thou  may'st  soar  sure  to  strands  of  sunny  mind; 
Where  transcendental  fancy  governs  all ; 
And  potence  true,  its  best  of  friends  doth  find 
In  that  for  which  the  World  does  risk  a  fall, 
Great  gain:  thus  opulence,  too,  close  behind. 


40 


XXIII. 

Now  turbulency,  dictate  thought  sublime ; 

If  thou  but  cans't:  if  thou  but  mays't:  but  nay! 

These  rough  and  roaring  breakers  bid  thee  stay 

Thy  stirring  hand!   Oh  boist'rous  goddess,  rhyme 

Of  soft  repose;  for  very  pity,  time 

Thy  slumber,  now,  to  some  rift  wavelet's  foam : 

Some  deep  sub-marinal  moist  muse's  home. 

To  sleep  in  sinuously  pulsing  prime ! 

But  gold ;  but  gold !    An  inspiration  true : 

A  sort  of  smile,  celestial,  borne  to  earth : 

A  best  of  good  things,  where  such  may  accrue : 

A  pure  conception  of  a  god's  new  birth: 

Yet  attribute  to  Christ's  divinest  blue 

Of  universal  love :  a  heaven-born  girth. 


41 


XXIV. 

Fugacity  appeals  to  me,  oh  Muse  ; 

And  it  of  life.    This  transiency  blue, 

A  universe,  prosaic,  of  much  ado, 

Is  built  of  truth :    but  often  it  abstruse. 

Then  let  us  find,  in  love,  a  newer  ruse 

To  justify  vacuous  life's  faint  course; 

Evading  all  we  would  determine  dross : 

Our  aim  in  life  to  deprecate  abuse. 

But  gold;  but  gold!    A  staff  of  poet's  life: 

A  mainstay !    Just  man's  monster  mental-self ! 

A  brother — sister — to  Success :    its  wife ! 

An  ingenue  of  fortune :  bizarre  elf, 

Thou  art  desired!   Secret  of  our  strife, 

For  thee,  e'en  Purity  is  prone  to  delve. 


42 


XXV. 

WAR 

Oh,  poetry  of  distance,  now  appeal ! 
Enchantment  true !    We  want  not  thundrous  war : 
We  would  not  dwell  'neath  doom's  mephitic  star: 
Nor  see  and  bleed :  nor  groan  at  cruel  steel. 
To  stagger  at  the  blow :  to  cringe :  to  reel : 
(Great  Jove's  relentless  mockery  of  God!) 
Preferring  bloody  dust-bathed  earth  ill-trod 
With  vengeance,  lust,  rapine ;  the  voidal  meal ! 
We  yearn  for  prolegomena,  for  truth. 
That  something  which,  if  worlds  were  justly  made, 
Would  govern  savage  man  in  days  of  youth ; 
And  consummate  all  plans  as  they  were  laid. 
Here  strife's  incarnate,  vain,  reptilic  tooth 
Sunk  deep  of  human  flesh,  must  die  or  fade. 


43 


EXPOSITION 
EFFORTS 


COPYRIGHT 

BY 
GEORGE   A.    ALDRICH 


PREFACE 


Concerned  lest  the  poets,  whom  are  contributing  to  the 
"immortality"  of  the  Panama-Pacific  Exposition,  should 
require  our  obscure  assistance  in  the  furtherance  of  their 
worthy  cause,  bnt  in  vain':  we  have  again  ventured  upon  the 
waters  of  fame,  though  with  meager  spread  of  canvas^ 

The  Author. 


I. 

THE  P.  P.  I.  E. 

» 

Unite  some  hundred  features  never  met  abroad, 
To  make  a  mis-en-scene  of  earthly  mould, 
Surpassing  sites  of  which  the  gods  have  told ; 
And  grace  them  with  old-fashioned  grassy  sward. 
That  guards  the  beauty  of  its  pretty  ward : 
Then  bound  them  with  a  breezy,  restive,  bold 
And  active,  ever,  bay ;  whose  waters  story-old 
Attainment  of  discoverer's  award. 
Place,  now,  your  arts  and  crafts  in  studied  pile ; 
And  bathe  your  work  in  colors  of  the  thought : 
Then,  romance  on  the  goal  your  soul  has  gained ; 
And  weave  your  endless  metaphors  a  mile 
Or  more,  in  chains  fantastic ;  as  though  sought 
In  some  far  field  elysian,  profusely  rained. 


II. 


SONNET  * 

Now  stormy  winds,  come  dictate  thought  sublime. 

These  mansion-covered  hillocks  bid  thee  stay 

Thine  angry  hand :  for  very  pity  weigh 

Thy  season,  now,  by  some  sweet,  sunny  clime : 

Some  rhythmic  symphony  of  poet's  rhyme. 

Come,  tell  of  soft  and  sober  day, 

When  wood-nymphs  bask  in  warmer  way ; 

And  trip  their  trills  of  airy  nothing,  prime. 

Then,  chant  thy  paeans  of  fine  opulence : 

In  golden  strains  its  melodies  resound : 

And  teach  our  tired,  trustful  bosom  whence 

Its  jewelled  keys  are  certain  to  be  found. 

Come,  lisp  us  numbers  in  such  iterance, 

Ideas  Olympian  shall  earthward  now  rebound. 


Composed  at  the  P.  P.  I.  E.  on  the  14th  day  of  May,  1915. 


III. 

A  SONG 

1 

The  Muses  nine,  in  rhyme  combine, 

With  Thalia  and  Columbine, 

To  frame  a  "  Jewel  City." 

With  quivering  light,  they  cleave  the  night ; 

And  lifting  doubt  from  human-sight, 

Discover  new  things,  pretty. 

CHORUS 

Lip  your  trills  from  merry  hills 
To  lowland's  laughing  water. 

Terpsichore and  Pan care  hills; 

As  only  such  god  ought  to. 

Tune  your  lyres :  blaze  your  fires : 

Devour  your  maiden-kisses. 

Blow  your  trumpets :  bring  your  choirs ; 

Your  love  to  men  and  misses. 

2 

The  Muses  nine  are  now  in  line, 
With  poesy  and  soul  of  vine, 
To  judge  our  western  plenty. 
Olympus  moans  its  rhythmic  tones, 
In  envy  of  our  painted  stones ; 
And  dollars,  millions  twenty. 

3 

The  Muses  nine,  with  Columbine 
And  Harlequin,  are  here  to  sign 
Away  the  Life  of  Care. 
With  time-tuned  feet,  occasion  meet 
In  dance  and  mirth  of  novel  treat ; 
As  only  these  two  dare. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

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